Living, Not Occupying
A winter-perfect dawn.
Each branch lightly dusted with last night’s snowfall. Clouds play between shades of gray, a faint brush of cream on the horizon. The play of light at first morning marked the day with quiet delight.
Then flawless daylight rested on my painting table. Yes—I created a working art studio in what was once my living room. The bedroom is now a sitting room. And the bed? Gone. My back could no longer tolerate it. With a recliner designed for sleep, I rise after deep rest, pain-free.
Material things left easily. The bed and linens—beautiful, but unnecessary—went to others. The chair remains. It is handsome. I feel no shame or regret, no stigma in this choice. I danced for decades. I ran on pavement for years after that. I rode motorcycles and horses in my fifties. Of course my back protested. It deserved a place of rest that offered comfort, not pain.
This is the shift I want to share:
from occupying an apartment to living inside a breathing art studio.
I wanted to paint again. No—I needed to paint again. I stopped encaustic painting thirteen years ago when I moved into this small, pretty space. Recently, I allowed myself to imagine using my hands for something other than a keyboard: the scent of melted beeswax, a brush in hand, the first stroke across pristine birch.
When I arrived here, I saw no room for a studio. I sold my supplies. My pragmatic mind made the decision for me: I had moved from a 500-square-foot studio to a 600-square-foot apartment. The math seemed clear.
Time proved otherwise.
As the years unfolded, the studio revealed itself.
Begin again. A small palette. A few brushes. Boards for practice—and better boards for later, when color tells the truth and gesture does.
Everything is smaller. Right-sized. Enough to begin. Enough to stay.
There is no message I can offer.
I can share delight.
I listen closely to my heart now. Each breath, each movement, finds its rhythm there.
You show how to lean into the superpower of Now, whatever the situation is. It's helping me to embrace something that I've been grappling with for a while, what I've viewed as a deficit instead of a teacher. And Franciekelly, I am with you on all that about being kinder, doing more. We have to put down the mirror that we use to compare ourselves to anyone or anything. We are here to be. Knowing that others feel the same way is helpful indeed.
You closed with "I listen closely to my heart now. Each breath, each movement, finds its rhythm there.” This is perhaps where I need to find myself, instead of the regret for not living a life where I was kinder to myself, where I didn’t accomplish enough. I’ve done so much in my life, but still somehow seek this need to do more, and do it better. This drive to DO MORE is so huge. Your words remind me, however, that acceptance is such a huge and important thing now. The days have gone to become something more. Isn’t living joyfully, sharing what we have (including our joy) and loving, enough? I think what your words remind me of are, I am enough. Thank you for this.